


i'm lost in the empty space (i wanna wake up)

by citrusmist



Category: Dayshift At Freddy's, Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Child Murder, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder, and dave needs to get more creative with his nicknames, and maybe a trip to vegas w/ his homie, hugging your coworker in the saferoom surrounded by dead kids, it would be funny i think, jack kennedy is officially having a Shit day, jack kennedy needs a hug, stg "pumpkin pie" headass, that should be a legitimate tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:56:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29519808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrusmist/pseuds/citrusmist
Summary: jack wishes this all were a terrible nightmare, something that he could wake up from, but he knows. he know it isn’t, he knows he’s never going to forget this, he knows this will follow him forever, everywhere, he knows it.or, jack feels remorse.
Relationships: William Afton | Dave Miller/Jack Kennedy, William Afton | Dave Miller/Old Sport | Protagonist
Kudos: 6





	i'm lost in the empty space (i wanna wake up)

**Author's Note:**

> hehehe davesport brain go brrr  
> anyways hello!! hello hello!!! _hands you this gingerly_ here u go :]  
> i know it's short BUT!!!! i can and will write more >:] i may have more already in the works
> 
> [title from zero_one - the living tombstone]
> 
> trigger/content warnings for the mention of knives, mentions of deceased children, talk of murder, and mentions of blood <33 the usual for this fandom, to be honest.

there’s nothing like feeling remorse for something you can’t take back.

dave has left, probably going to go rob a store and get drunk, leaving jack alone to deal with this ugly feeling that infects his veins, twisting and squeezing his insides. he feels broken, shattered, hands stained with cruor and the cruel glint of the blade used for the slaughter smiles back at him, taunting him, goading him to pick it up once more.

jack ignores it, turns away and covers his face with his hands. he’s tired, so tired, so _tired_ , why did he do this? he knows how it feels to be one of the parents, waiting for their child to exit the godforsaken restaurant, to no avail. he’s become someone unrecognisable to himself, he doesn’t know who he is or why he’s here, and the only thing he can perceive is the aroma of death.

how long has he been sitting here? 

long enough for flies to follow the aroma of spilt blood, and as his eyes trail the flying insects, his vision lands on the kids.

he flinches, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to get the echoes of their screams, their pleas for him to leave them alone, their _dying breaths_ out of his head. jack is panicking, his lungs aren’t intaking air, he can’t _breathe_ \- but then again, neither can they. 

they will never breathe again. they will never laugh or cry, they will never see their families again, never be able to feel joy or sadness or anger or disgust, they will never live their lives again, and it’s jack’s fault. 

jack has become the monster he swore to destroy, the very monster that took his sister away from him, he’s ripped these children’s childhood away, he’s a _monster_. soulless.

before he knows it, he’s crying, dry sobs heaving from his chest without any tears to accompany them. he crawls over to the corpses of the children, his hands and uniform covered with the blood that pools around them, and grabs the knife. he’s staring at his reflection in the blade, gazing restlessly down at his bloodstained face, wondering who is staring back. jack doesn’t know who he is anymore.

remorse courses through his veins as he continues to stare, and he slams his hands down onto his thighs in anger, the hilt of the knife digging into his skin. dee’s voice - no, a _phantom_ of her voice - rings out in his head.

_“you promised.”_

he promised he wouldn’t become the person who killed her, and yet, he has.

a twisted way of fate, he chuckles angrily. 

_“you promised, you promised, you promised.”_ she repeats, and he resists the urge to scream, _i know! i know i promised! i’m sorry!_ into the empty room. 

jack wishes this all were a terrible nightmare, something that he could wake up from, but he knows. he know it isn’t, he knows he’s never going to forget this, he knows this will follow him forever, everywhere, he knows it. he cries into his bloodied hands, pink teardrops sliding down his cheeks and landing into the puddles of gore on the floor. 

the door opens, but jack pays it no mind. rationally, he knows it could be his boss walking in to check on him, and seeing him surrounded by the dead bodies of five missing children and covered in blood would be more than enough evidence to get him arrested, but he can’t find it in himself to really care. he promised, and he broke that promise. at least he’ll pay for the horrific crime he’s committed. 

the knife is still in his discoloured, red hands, and he chokes, staring down at it. 

"sportsy?” he hears through the haze that clouds his mind, turning around. his fractured eyes focus on dave, and he moves back sharply, before realising it’s ok. dave is ok. dave is safety, and safety is what jack needs right now. “are you alright, sportsy?” the other guard kneels beside him, reaching out hesitantly and brushing his fingertips against jack’s clenched hands. it’s a gesture meant to cheer jack up, but all it does is cause this bone crushing feeling that makes him sob harder, feeling unworthy of comfort, even if it’s by his companion in the grisly murder. 

dave wraps an arm around his shoulder, and jack breaks, twisting his body to bury his face in dave’s neck, and almost immediately, the other man hugs him back. “old sport, are you alright?” 

“i-i’m a _monster,_ dave.” 

"oh, no.” dave murmurs softly, brushing his hands through jack’s hair. “you’re not a monster, you’re my pumpkin pie!” 

jack chuckles wetly, dave’s horrid joke somehow lifting what little spirits he has left, and he grips tightly onto dave’s uniform, continuing to hide his face in the taller man’s shoulder. “i killed them, though. i killed them, dave, they’re _dead_ and it’s my fault, i did this to them.” 

“nonono, you’re getting it wrong, sportsy! we did this together.” 

jack looks up at him and glares, eyes narrowed and a frown on his face. “is that _really_ supposed to make me feel better?” 

dave shrugs. “i mean, yeah, kinda.” his annoying brooklyn accent makes jack break a smile, but he quickly downturns his lips and sighs. “listen, sportsy, we’re in this together, y’hear? and i’d never leave you to deal with your demons alone, i’m here with you, y’know? even if y’did murder some kids, you still got me, and besides! we’re doing it so we can get outta this hellhole of a restaurant, you feel me? and when we’re out, it’s a one way trip to vegas, baby!” 

“dave, you’re shit at comfort.” he says, voice monotone, carding a hand through his hair robotically, then wrinkling his nose - he’d have to wash blood out of his hair, now. unfortunate. “but thank you, i guess.” 

“of course, pumpkin pie!” jack groans, moving to push himself away from dave, then pausing. does he really want to leave dave’s oddly comforting grip? dave squeezes him closer, and it’s then that he makes a decision. 

dave and him are in this together. he relaxes against the purple man’s body, letting his eyes close for a while, and this time, when they do, he doesn’t see the panicked faces of children about to be slaughtered. 

he sees dave. 

dave’s smile, dave’s eyes, dave, dave, _dave._

they’re in this together. 

**Author's Note:**

> babab i hope you enjoyed!! if you spent the time to read this you should go follow my tumblr [https://citrus-mist.tumblr.com]


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